


Daring to Breathe

by dracoqueen22



Category: Bleach
Genre: Drama, Friendship, Humor, M/M, Post-Soul Society Arc, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-19
Updated: 2012-09-19
Packaged: 2017-11-14 14:10:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/516049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dracoqueen22/pseuds/dracoqueen22
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A five-part ficlet series. Eventual Shuuhei/Kenpachi. Inner musings lead Shuuhei to seek out a friendship he never expected. Nor did he ever think it would lead to more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Blind

**Author's Note:**

> Fic was originally written and posted November 2007 as such the details only reflect what canon was available at that time.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shuuhei wonders how it didn't see it coming, how he missed all of the signs.

It should have been obvious, especially considering his position. Shuuhei wondered how he didn't see it coming, how he could have _missed_ all the signs. He had thought he was intelligent and observant; he had thought he could spy dishonesty in a man from across Seireitei.

It appeared even those with sight couldn't see. His former captain never would have appreciated the irony in that. He was too caught up in his ideal of justice.

Still, Shuuhei couldn't understand how he never suspected, never even _guessed._ It rankled on his conscience and questioned his judgment. How smart was he if he couldn't tell that his own captain was secretly plotting to betray them?

He wasn't like Momo, who had always followed around after Aizen like a lost puppy, hoping for a pat on the head and ridiculously happy when she received it. She was so lost in her delusions that even now, she still prayed that her captain would return. She thought he was misguided, that maybe he just lost his way. She couldn't even see the pain in Hitsugaya-taichou's eyes when she asked him to save her beloved Aizen.

And Shuuhei didn't think for one minute they were alike.

He wasn't like Izuru either. His friend had devoted everything to his captain, had given Ichimaru his supreme loyalty that simply couldn't be shaken. Izuru was dedicated to a fault, blind in his own right, when it came to something that simply wasn't healthy. He couldn't see that Ichimaru thrived on his devotion. He was better now, much more so than Momo in any rate, but Shuuhei still caught him at times, looking at his vice-captain's badge as if asking himself if his captain's defection was his fault.

No, Shuuhei didn't believe that he was similar to Izuru either.

He and Tousen had been friends… or as close that as they could come given the boundaries of their relationship. His captain had considered him an equal, and though he had rarely handed over many of the duties of their division to Shuuhei, it was clear that this hadn't been because he thought Shuuhei incapable. Rather, that Tousen saw these duties as his own and no one else's.

He could still remember the times he had listened to Tousen speak of his beliefs, of his desire to not shed unnecessary blood. He remembered being intrigued by his ideals, and as one who avoided violence whenever possible, he had thought that he fit right in with his captain's tenets.

Thinking back, Shuuhei couldn't help but wonder if all that discussion, all that lecture, had merely been double-speak for his captain. He wondered if Tousen had been asking him, in an off-handed and double-sided manner, if he loved justice enough to follow Tousen's own path. He could remember a few proposed thoughts that Shuuhei had dismissed and never spoken of again.

If he had paid more attention, could he have caught it before it was too late? If he had refused to let himself be blinded by an unattainable ideal, could he have stopped it before it even began? Could he have saved them all from their current fate? If he had only looked a little closer, he wondered, would he have seen his captain for his true face?

There were so many "ifs" all dancing around in his mind, enough to make him question his own faiths.

And he wondered if someone like Zaraki-taichou had ever suspected. The man seemed perceptive, dangerously so, and figuring no one would listen, knowing that no one would believe crazy Zaraki Kenpachi, had he kept quiet?

Perhaps that was the real reason Tousen wore the glasses. Not to hide his blind eyes but to hide the truth he couldn't completely conceal with words alone. Pretty sentiments that couldn't stand up in the face of his real deeds.

Shuuhei wondered how he could have missed something so plainly and painfully obvious. He thought that maybe it was Soul Society that was truly blind and not just his former captain.

He wondered if perhaps that was Tousen's true intent all along.


	2. Poisoned Rationality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shuuhei's contemplations encourage him to seek out some answers from a most unlikely source: Zaraki Kenpachi.

It had been bothering him for days. Once the idea had entered his head, it refused to leave, bouncing around in an endless circle that he couldn't ignore, even if he wanted to. He mused on it for hours on end, found himself cutting eyes at the man from across courtyards or even going to watch him battle or train. He debated with himself over and over if it was even possible before finally realizing that there was nothing left for him to do but ask.

Thus, Hisagi Shuuhei found himself standing on the doorstep of the eleventh division, able to hear the ruckus within from outside. It was definitely different than the quiet dignity of his own squad. And he couldn't help but wonder if it might be better that way. Loud and noisy, lacking in all of the things that Tousen had preached. Obviously, something was right in the eleventh division. And he aimed to find out exactly what that was.

His knocking went unanswered, though that might have had something to do with the fact that it likely couldn't be heard above the noise. Shuuhei was stumped. Proper etiquette dictated that he be invited before going inside, as Tousen had always taught him. But no one was answering, despite the fact that he knew there were people inside. And he wasn't about to simply give up and walk away either.

It was only proper to be polite. It was honest and civilized to knock or announce oneself's presence, just as Tousen had always said.

It struck Shuuhei just then.

_As Tousen had always said._

He had the sudden and insane urge to kick in the door. And might have done so if not for the fortuitous appearance of Ayasegawa-san just behind him.

"Hisagi-san?" the fifth-seat questioned with some surprise.

Shuuhei turned and found that Yumichika was carrying a few jugs of sake in his hands. Flanking him, belatedly noticed, was Ikkaku Madarame, who was grinning ear to ear, already looking quite sloshed. Shuuhei realized that he probably looked a little crazy, standing outside of the eleventh division and staring as if it were the door to paradise or something.

He fought down the uncharacteristic urge to redden. "I knocked, but no one answered," Shuuhei explained rather lamely as purple eyes proceeded to examine him thoroughly.

There was always something about Ayasegawa that unnerved him, the fluttery fifth-seat acting like he were only pretending to be airheaded. There was something calculating in his purposeful glances, as if he were categorizing every weakness, deciding which was the best method for getting under someone's skin. Shuuhei remembered all too well losing to Ayasegawa, something he had never expected to do.

Ikkaku lifted a brow. "Shit," he responded, striding forward to sling one arm over Shuuhei's shoulder and directing him towards the door. "They can't hear it o'er the fights," he slurred, kicking open the entrance and hollering almost exactly in Shuuhei's ear. "We brought the boooooooze!"

A chorus of cheers echoed around the squad as Shuuhei was blinded by lights and noise and the smell of food and alcohol. Without his consent, though he had wanted to go in from the beginning, he was led inside. Yumichika trailed along after them, closing the door in their wake.

Instantly, they were mobbed as the lower Shinigami came to relieve Ikkaku and Yumichika of their burdens and spread the sake around. With their duties taken care of, Ayasegawa promptly disappeared into the crowd, but Ikkaku didn't relinquish his hold on Shuuhei, instead directing him further through the throng.

"Ya lookin' for someone?" he practically yelled, straining to be heard over the raucous laughter and cheering.

Somewhere beyond Shuuhei's sight and the press of bodies, he detected the sounds of swords clanging and the low grunt of those sparring. He couldn't seem to get over the noise of the squad, the unruly chaos that was spread out around him. Ikkaku easily navigated them through it, even stepping over bodies that were already unconscious, smiling even in sleep, some nuzzling empty sake jugs.

In the back of his mind, Shuuhei vaguely remembered hearing something about the eleventh division being off rotation for the week, though he couldn't recall exactly why. Maybe it explained the chaos; maybe it didn't. He had the sudden wondering thought of who did their paperwork. Surely, a squad such as theirs racked up enormous amounts of it.

"Yo, Hisagi!" Ikkaku yelling in his ear caused Shuuhei to blink.

"I'm looking for Zaraki-taichou," Shuuhei explained, finally answering the third-seat's prior question. He had to lift his voice louder than usual to be heard. Even though it was undignified to do so, as he had always been told.

One had to be a gentleman at all times, after all.

Ikkaku lifted a brow in his direction but shrugged and promptly snagged an open jug from a lower-seat passing by. "Whatever ya say," he responded, ever present arm directing Shuuhei towards some unknown location.

He couldn't stop his eyes from wandering as they navigated deeper into the building. Over in one corner, a rousing game of poker was being played with chips and pay being exchanged at a rapid pace, not to mention physical blows as well. Another corner held a trio of Shinigami engaged in a drinking contest, and it didn't look like anyone was going to win. But despite that, everyone looked... well, happy.

"What'cha lookin' for taichou for anyways?" Ikkaku suddenly asked after taking a giant swig from his jug and grinning widely.

Shuuhei wasn't sure how to answer in a manner that the half-inebriated man would understand. Truthfully, he wasn't entirely sure himself. His coming had been half-whim and half-plan, some desperate attempt to find closure on a confusion that had been plaguing him since his captain's betrayal. Or maybe he had just been looking for something different, for some kind of understanding.

He just didn't know.

Luckily, he was saved from answering when a pink and black blur appeared out of nowhere, latching itself onto Ikkaku's head. Shuuhei blinked, belatedly recognizing it as the eleventh division's vice-captain. Ikkaku's jug crashed to the floor, surprisingly empty, as he gave a sharp cry of shock and tried to detach Yachiru. But she was tenacious and promptly began chomping on his head.

"Get off, brat!" Ikkaku growled, hands gripping onto her uniform as he tried to pull her away.

Shuuhei could only gape in abject shock as this game of tug-of-war continued with no one else surprised at all. Yachiru continued to giggle before finally noticing that they had an audience.

"It's Pretty-chan!" she declared, smiling at him.

"Erm… good evening, Kusajishi-fukutaichou," Shuuhei managed, still staring at her latched on Ikkaku.

Where she didn't remain for long.

She cocked her head to the side and watched him for a moment before suddenly launching herself over to him and perching on his shoulder. She was lighter than he had suspected.

"Nyah!" she chirped in his ear, clinging to him. "That's no fun! No-Eyes is gone! You should party!"

Shuuhei blinked again. No-Eyes? Did she have a nickname for everyone? And what the hell, Pretty-chan? Didn't he deserve something a bit manlier?

But Yachiru just grinned. "Ne, make me a scarf sometime, 'kay?" she suggested before promptly darting away, screaming something about "Sneaky-Beard."

He couldn't help but feel as if he had just been attacked by a whirlwind and a flock of birds all at once. And then, being promptly left stranded on a deserted island.

Ikkaku, rubbing his head where teeth marks were plainly visible, snickered in his hear. "Hell, at least yer not Frilly-Brows," he said with a chuckle. "Come on, Hisagi; taichou's this way."

Shuuhei could only nod, still a bit disturbed by the encounter as Ikkaku managed to successfully navigate them through the rest of the crowd. Finally, he caught a glimpse of Zaraki inside one of the window seats, looking as harmless as Shuuhei had ever seen him. He had a bowl of sake in one hand and several empty bottles at his feet, while his hair was down from the usual spikes and bells. He looked slightly less fearsome but not by much.

The third-seat clapped him on the back with enough force to cause Shuuhei to stumble. "Good luck getting' 'im to sign any paperwork. See ya, Hisagi."

Ikkaku deserted him then, melding back into the crowd without so much as an introduction, leaving the vice-captain to approach Zaraki on his own. And Shuuhei watched the oblivious man for a moment, struck by how almost normal the renowned bloodthirsty captain seemed. Did he even dare call the situation peaceful?

Of course, Zaraki chose that moment to shatter the illusion by suddenly downing his sake and looking into the crowd, single eye pinning one of his subordinates.

"Oy!" he bellowed, just loud enough to be heard over the shouts and calls and fighting. "Bring me another bottle, ya lazy bastard!"

Said subordinate promptly snapped to attention and rushed off.

Shuuhei shook his head. Yes, there were definitely a lot of differences between the ninth and eleventh. He paused in his thoughts, glancing around once more.

But that wasn't necessarily a bad thing. And he was still determined to find out just what made the eleventh division tick.

Gathering up his resolve, Shuuhei pushed his way through the throng and made it to Zaraki's side just as a lower-seat was scampering away after having delivered the demanded bottle. The captain caught sight of him from the corner of his eye and over the rim of his bowl, a bizarre expression on his face.

"Strange to see ya here," Zaraki commented as bowl and jug clinked together when he poured.

It probably was. Tousen never had much to do with the eleventh division. They were beneath him.

Shuuhei only nodded in response.

Grunting, Zaraki gestured towards a pile of cushions. "Sit down," he offered. "Want a drink?"

Shuuhei's first thought as he lowered himself was to say no. It was, after all, a work night, and he would have to be in bright and early the next morning to stress himself over more paperwork that couldn't be signed and others that needed to be. Over running a squad that threatened to lose its morale at any moment. Over trying to find his own beliefs again in all the confusion. But then, he remembered that Tousen wasn't going to be there to chastise him or give him lectures. And honestly, what could it hurt?

So he nodded again. "Yes, thank you."

The captain watched him for a moment before digging another sake bowl out of _nowhere_ , pouring alcohol into it and handing it over. He then pulled a pipe out of the same invisible space and proceeded to start smoking without so much as another word. It was like he was merely waiting for Shuuhei to find his bearing, as if he knew why the vice-captain had come and was giving him time.

The man was damned perceptive, and it was rather disconcerting.

After a tentative sip and grimace, Shuuhei couldn't stand waiting any longer. He had to know.

"Did you know?" he suddenly blurted.

Zaraki blinked. "Know what?"

The vice-captain shifted on his cushion. "About them. About Aizen and Ichimaru and... Tousen. Did you know?"

Something gleamed behind that one eye of his before Zaraki let out a bark of laughter, much to Shuuhei's surprise. "Finally figured it out, didja?" he asked with a smirk. "That ole Zaraki Kenpachi's not as dumb as he looks."

Shuuhei hid his shame behind his bowl because Tousen had commented on more than one occasion just how stupid he believed the eleventh division captain to be. And while he hadn't entirely agreed, he had never thought to argue or disagree either.

He cleared his throat. "How did you know?"

"Che. Wasn't too hard to figure out. Once ya know to look, it's easy to spot what's comin'. No one's that damned perfect. Aizen always looked like he was laughin' at us from behind those glasses. And as for yer captain, it was easy to see justice had blinded him in more ways than one." He paused to suck on his pipe before continuing, "And only a moron couldn't see somethin' was wrong with Ichimaru. Boy's got a daddy complex a mile wide."

Shuuhei's eyes widened at the frank answer, especially the one concerning Ichimaru Gin.

"Daddy complex?" he repeated in confusion.

Rumors about the relationship between Aizen and Ichimaru had almost immediately circulated following their betrayal, but he hadn't heard anything similar to that explanation.

The captain shrugged. "Got that desperate look to 'im. Same one ya see in those kids in Rukongai that live in the streets. Always caught 'im watchin' me and Yachiru with funny looks. And the nobles with their kids, too." He exhaled softly, single eye glinting. "Even saw him lookin' at that kook scientist and his daughter. Like he were envious or somethin'."

"But why didn't you ever tell anyone?"

Zaraki snorted. "Tried to tell the fuckers… but didn't none of them believe me. That drunken fool Shunsui waved me off, and Unohana just gave me that damned empty and serene smile o' hers. Even that sick bastard Ukitake didn't wanna listen. I figured none of the rest would, so I stopped tryin'."

He had tried, and still, no one had listened.

Shuuhei looked down into his bowl, wondering just how much his own beliefs had been tainted by Tousen's lies. Everyone had been in Aizen's thrall for so long, and the one person to figure it out had been Zaraki Kenpachi. Even worse, the only man who would've been willing to listen to him was the very one who was creating the conspiracy.

"Was all of it a lie?" he asked himself aloud, not really intending to direct it at his companion.

"What? Didn't notice anythin' was wrong?" Zaraki inserted, having caught his question. "Che. What the fuck's that school for anyway? Don't seem to teach ya anythin' worthwhile, does it?"

The Academy. Thoughts of it reminded Shuuhei of something else.

"Aizen saved me once," he began slowly, unsure exactly why he was telling Zaraki this. "It was only recently that I realized it was from Hollows created after his own experiments. He had deliberately sent them," Shuuhei explained bitterly, one hand lifting to trace the scars on his face as his stomach roiled unpleasantly. "Those Hollows killed my friends before Aizen and Ichimaru showed up." He paused before glancing up at the captain. "You think we're all idiots, don't you? Izuru, Hinamori, and me."

Zaraki's gaze slid to the crowd beyond their small niche, watching his subordinates drink and yell and laugh and generally have their own definition of a good time. "The real idiots're the bastards who've known Aizen for the longest and still didn't suspect nothin'." He shrugged, dragging his eye back to Shuuhei; it was filled with more knowledge than the vice-captain ever thought he would witness. "I guess it's the ones ya trust the most are the ones who fool ya in the end."

Shuuhei let his words sink in, bouncing around in his brain with their aura of absolute truth. It had taken Zaraki to discover this, to figure it all out, and no one had listened. How much could have been saved, he wondered. How much heartache could have been prevented?

"Sides, ya stuck by that Kira kid didn't ya?" Zaraki's voice punctured Shuuhei's thoughts. "When everyone thought he was a traitor?"

Nearly everyone had accused Izuru of being in league with Gin, only to be abandoned by his captain in the end. At the time, it had almost been like Seireitei was scrambling for a scapegoat to blame and had their eyes on Kira simply because he wasn't unconscious in a hospital ward like Momo. It wasn't enough that it was the actual traitor's fault, but they wanted someone to punish who was easy to access.

"Izuru's not a traitor," Shuuhei stated a bit more forcefully than he intended, his fingers tightening around his bowl.

"Shit… anyone with one eye and a lick of common sense could see that," Zaraki countered. "Then again, no one ever claimed they had any."

Shuuhei couldn't help himself; he laughed at Kenpachi's frank assessment of Seireitei. It was all so surreal, this strange identity crisis of his. Here, he was, having sake with the man who Tousen had always considered vile and uncouth, and Zaraki was making sense.

Surely, the world had ended.

The captain started chuckling himself and set to pouring more alcohol for himself. "You're not so bad, after all, Hisagi. There might even be some fun in ya. Sake?"

Shuuhei didn't even have to think about it, feeling strangely free from the madness that had surrounded him ever since Tousen's betrayal.

He held out his bowl.


	3. Dance with the Devil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Friendships deepen and Shuuhei discovers the honesty in the eleventh division.

His waraji scraped across the hard-paced dirt as Shuuhei was shoved backwards, barely catching himself from hitting the ground. He stumbled under the sheer strength and force of Zaraki's attack and struggled to regain his balance. Panting, the vice-captain looked up, fingers tightening around the hilt of his zanpakutou.

He could feel it. The sweat trickling down his back and streaming his brow. His uniform was clinging to his skin, bathed in sweat and covered in dirt and bits of rock. His feet hurt, his muscles ached, and he was certain every blister on his hands had already popped.

But he had honestly never felt more alive.

As he struggled to keep his shaking legs from toppling beneath him, Zaraki-taichou laughed, idly balancing his zanpakutou on his shoulder. "That the best the ninth division has to offer?" he demanded with a feral grin.

Fighting to draw in a breath, Shuuhei blinked a bit of blood from his eye, the result of a lucky strike by the captain. Still, he knew for a fact that the man was holding back. He wasn't out to kill and maim, after all. Or at least not intentionally.

"Tousen was a pacifist."

' _And maybe I was, too, once upon a time_ ,' he added without feeling the need to say aloud.

Zaraki arched his brow, clearly unimpressed. "Got him far, didn't it now?" he asked, feeling no need to censor himself.

It was one of the reasons Shuuhei liked talking to him. And it didn't bother the vice-captain as much as it once had to hear how foolish he had been or how easily he had been swayed by Tousen. Instead, he was learning to accept the truth and think for himself, formulate his own opinions. He had been taking pains to reevaluate everything and was actually rather surprised how much actually coincided with Zaraki's sense of honor and battle.

Rather than argue against the captain, Shuuhei merely nodded and charged Zaraki again, despite the fatigue in his muscles screaming for rest. Their zanpakutou met with a fierce clang, the sound rattling through the air.

If he was going to overcome Tousen, he had to start somewhere.

He hadn't intended all those weeks ago to begin training and sparring with Zaraki-taichou, but somewhere along the way, they had inevitably fallen into that pattern. Shuuhei ended up visiting the eleventh often. Sometimes, it was to escape the dark cloud that hung around his own division and the piles of paperwork that a captain was supposed to sign; the same ones he inevitably had to now, even though he was only a vice-captain. Other times, it was because he wanted to be someplace where no one expected anything from him.

He had come to like that about Zaraki and his men. They didn't watch him, waiting for him to show the first signs of cracking or breaking. While Ikkaku and Yumichika were concerned, they didn't hover over him like relentless mother hens as did some of the others. Shuuhei didn't have to put up with stares or furrowed brows or whispers.

At the eleventh, he could just _be_ , and that was what mattered most to him. He didn't even have to watch himself or his actions, catch himself from the occasional curse word that slipped out or turn down the next bowl of sake. He didn't have to pretend to be anything more than he was. None of the fake, overbearing politeness that had been thrust upon him which he never could stand but followed anyway. He didn't have to hide behind rules or a semblance of justice, which in retrospect wasn't really justice at all.

Nothing was expected from him; they demanded nothing. Except strength. Something basic and undefined. But it wasn't necessarily physical strength either. Yachiru was just a slip of a thing, but she was quick, and she was fearless. She could heft her captain over her shoulder, but there were others who were stronger. It was more like... a strength of being. Of understanding one's own self rather than following preset rules and guidelines.

Even if one's own self was just an idiot with overly large muscles.

All in all, it had the strange effect of freeing him in a manner he had never expected.

Honestly, the first time Zaraki suggested they have a match, Shuuhei had been just a little terrified. He had seen the man fight on more than one occasion. He liked Zaraki, but the captain was a demon on the battlefield. He wasn't certain he could come through such a session alive, much less unscathed.

Besides, Tousen had never liked fighting for the sake of fighting, and a bit of his captain's words were still engraved inside of Shuuhei, stubbornly refusing to be erased. He had turned Zaraki down the first time, coming up with some lame excuse that no one believed, much less himself. It wasn't until he was sitting at Tousen's desk, all of the man's words soaking into his bones, staring at a paper that was asking for something he couldn't even begin to comprehend, that he realized why he had turned Zaraki down in the first place.

It occurred to him that maybe he had just gotten a little too complacent with himself. A little too pacifistic. Yumichika was strong, yes. But that complacency was probably the reason he got his ass handed to him by the pretty fifth-seat. Before then, he couldn't honestly remember the last time he had sparred for the sake of sparring or drilled for a reason more than "so I don't get too out of practice."

He had tromped to the eleventh the very next day and told Zaraki he had changed his mind. The captain had laughed at him, eye glinting dangerously, and lifted his sword. Told him to "get his pansy ass out in the courtyard."

From then on, every few days like clockwork, Shuuhei found himself getting wiped from end of the division to the other by the sheer force of Zaraki's zanpakutou. They sparred regularly now, and Shuuhei used the term spar lightly. It really consisted of him desperately trying to survive, while spending most of his time getting acquainted with the wall and the floor and the sharp end of Zaraki's nameless sword.

But every pull in his muscle, every bandaged wound, and every limp he walked home with made him feel just a bit stronger. It made him feel just a bit more like himself.

There were other reasons Shuuhei found himself drawn to the eleventh, outside of the sparring. Often, he and Zaraki would just talk. As strange as that sounded, sitting and sipping sake while having a conversation was actually pretty normal. Shuuhei knew that most of Seireitei would be surprised just how full of insight the eleventh division captain was. Zaraki noticed a lot more than he was given credit for.

It was easy to talk to Zaraki because the man didn't put on airs, didn't put up a wall between himself and others. He was honest and unforgiving, telling people the way something was rather than the way they would rather hear. The captain didn't expect anything out of Shuuhei in the conversation. He didn't prod for answers but let him formulate his own.

And the fact that Shuuhei was from a minor noble family and not Rukongai like the rest of his top and former top officers didn't seem to bother Zaraki. Alright, there was the exception of Iba and Sneaky-Beard, whose name Shuuhei still hadn't figured out despite the fact that the guy was always hanging around. Still, a person's origins had no bearing on Zaraki's acceptance. It was refreshing.

It wasn't just Zaraki that he was growing familiar with either, but Yachiru and the rest of the eleventh as well. Despite their supposed viciousness and lust for blood, they were ridiculously honest individuals. They even seemed to genuinely like each other, even when they were fighting, bickering, and pummeling one another's faces in just for the hell of it. It was vastly different from the polite acceptance of the ninth, where courtesy and civility prevented a person's real feelings from emerging.

He had been growing fond of Yachiru, too, which was rather surprising since he had never really known her before or really talked to her. Considering that they were both vice-captains, one would think they had at least exchanged words. He admitted to himself with some shame that he might have been biased then, a victim of his captain's silent warnings that he had nearly taken for gospel. But Shuuhei wanted to succeed; he had ambition. Therefore, he had rarely questioned Tousen.

Perhaps he should have.

Tousen had always been of the belief that Zaraki was ruining Yachiru, raising her in such an environment. He had also been certain that there was no saving the child; she would be forever tainted by Zaraki's callous and demonic being. Shuuhei had never formed his own opinion on the matter.

But Shuuhei would never forget the day he arrived a little earlier than usual and caught Zaraki-taichou, feared fiend of the eleventh division, playing dolls with his sort-of daughter. Admittedly, they _were_ attacking each other, and the dolls did appear to be victims of some gruesome war. They had missing limbs and streaks of red over their bodies, which Shuuhei thought might have been blood. But nevertheless, the two were playing together like any parent and child would, and they were playing with dolls. After seeing that, it became harder and harder to dismiss Zaraki as entirely fierce and bloodthirsty. Though he still was.

Yachiru somehow managed to sink beneath his skin with her constant pestering and smiles and nicknames. He was growing used to her occasional weight on his shoulder, just glad that she didn't chew on his head like Ikkaku or steal his stuff for a game of Keep Away like she did to Yumichika. And sometimes, she said the most peculiar things, which set him to brooding about any manner of things.

Namely, just where exactly Ukitake-taichou kept all that candy on him. And why a badass like Zaraki Kenpachi would ever willingly wear bells in his hair, even if it was to prolong a battle and make it more interesting.

And Shuuhei had finally broken down and knitted her a small scarf like she had been begging him to over the past few weeks. Shuuhei didn't know how she had found out about that little skill of his and wasn't about to ask. Yachiru could pretend innocence better than any child he had ever met, though occasionally the effect was lost when she was covered in blood-stains or chocolate stains or any manner of stains. Thus, Shuuhei had chosen a deep red for the color, figuring that it would be the least likely to show such things. Especially the particular stains that seemed to frequent the eleventh division.

It was amusing because she had taken to wearing the scarf around in a manner that suspiciously resembled Kuchiki-taichou. And when others asked, Yachiru told everyone that Pretty-chan had made it for her. They assumed she meant Yumichika, but the eleventh knew better. Since then, Renji had yet to stop teasing him on the matter. Izuru found it incredibly cute, and Shuuhei resolved to knit for one for the third division vice-captain as well. Perhaps a nice blue or a light green. Renji would be lucky if he got a kick to the head, however.

Slowly and surely, Shuuhei was finding himself merging into the eleventh. Not so much that he felt he should change divisions, but that he was learning something new. Making friends. A part of him was even coming to admire Zaraki-taichou. The man was open about everything he did, making no excuses for the way he was. It was significantly easier to approach him about anything, compared to the distance that had always been between Tousen and his squad. Shuuhei suspected that his former captain had done that on purpose, that it wasn't just his personality. It was easier to betray those one didn't truly care for or respect, after all.

Shuuhei was just now getting to the point that he could wonder if his captain had ever respected him at all. Had ever cared for him.

He couldn't help but find it ironic. From the moment Zaraki had stormed into Soul Society, defeated the eleventh division captain in a legitimate battle, and taken command of the squad, Tousen had called him a monster. He had claimed that Zaraki was a creature that served no purpose but to create chaos, that the fearsome man would eventually break the tenuous peace of Soul Society. And then, years later, Tousen himself was the first one to bring chaos. Even as Zaraki had fought to bring him down.

Shuuhei supposed that was true justice in its own way, not Tousen's idealized and selfish form of it.

He had never expected from the moment he took the first step that he and Zaraki Kenpachi would eventually become associates, friends even. Honestly, Shuuhei wasn't entirely sure what he had anticipated. But this easy camaraderie was above his expectations. Not that it was unwanted.

Their growing friendship hadn't been that apparent until the day Zaraki had actually asked him for help, though it wasn't a flat out plea for aid. Understandably so. The captain had his pride, after all.

They had been at the eleventh, sharing a bottle of sake and conversing as usual. Yachiru had been wreaking havoc, gone from her usual perch and leaving them to discuss more serious manners without her peppy input. It was then that Zaraki had brought up the topic of their respective zanpakutou.

" _Tryin' to get your bankai, right?"_

_Shuuhei blinked, looking up from his drink. In the background, the noise of the eleventh division was a dull roar. It surprised him how quickly he had gotten used to the yelling and fighting and laughing._

_It took him a moment to register that Zaraki had asked him a question since he had been deep in thought. But he finally nodded._

" _If I'm going to take down Tousen, then I at least need to have that."_

" _You're close though," Zaraki pressed, sounding both curious and intrigued as he reached for the bottle, and it clinked as he refilled his own dish. "Able to see it now, can't ya?"_

_Shuuhei furrowed his brow, wondering how the captain had known he could manifest his zanpakutou's spirit. He had been working hard, but he had the feeling Amaterasu was disappointed with him. He could understand. He was a bit frustrated with himself, which directly translated to her. Nevertheless, Shuuhei wanted to believe that he was drawing closer and closer every day, the spars with Zaraki surprisingly helping him._

_He didn't bother to ask how Zaraki had known._

" _I can. Why?"_

_The man was unusually silent for a moment before he grinned and tapped the hilt of his sword. "He's got a name, and I wanna know what it is. It would be weird ta ask Yumichika or Ikkaku."_

_Needless to say, Shuuhei was quite surprised. It wasn't as if he were the foremost expert on the matter, but he supposed the captain had a point. He could just imagine either Ikkaku or Yumichika's advice, none of which would be helpful._

_Shuuhei frowned in thought, pondering on the matter. "We'll need somewhere quiet," he mused aloud, not really noticing until then that he had left Zaraki without an answer for quite some time._

_The captain grunted. "Quiet?"_

_Clearly the word was lost on him._

_Shuuhei fought the urge to laugh outright and settled for a light chuckle. "So you can concentrate. You know... meditate," he explained with a vague gesture._

_Zaraki looked skeptical. "Yer tryin' to tell me that idiot Abarai meditated?"_

_This time, he didn't even fight it. He laughed, nearly drowning his snickers in his sake. The idea of Renji sitting still for any amount of time, much less calm contemplation, was actually pretty amusing. Then again, Renji was awfully driven. Perhaps the two balanced each other out._

" _I'm assuming," Shuuhei corrected, once he had regained his breath. "We'll try it first and see if that works. If not..." He paused to shrug. "We'll attempt something else."_

_The captain made a noncommittal sound in his throat, looking pointedly around them to the noise and bustle. "No use in meditatin' here," he commented, and just the way he said the word nearly set the vice-captain off again._

_As if it were as bad as being forced to eat vegetables or scrub behind your ears or such things that were considered good but no one really enjoyed._

_Trying to tone down his snickers, and staring pointedly into his dish wondering just how much of the alcohol he had drunk, Shuuhei shook his head. "No, not here. There's a place out in Rukongai that's pretty deserted. No one should bother you there. It's in the fifth district, out past the..." the vice-captain trailed off when he realized just whom he was giving directions to._

_If he relied on Zaraki to get himself there, the captain wouldn't arrive until sometime next year. And while the idea was amusing, it was counter-productive._

_Amending himself, Shuuhei changed his mind. "Never mind. I should probably just take you."_

_Moments later, he was surprised by Zaraki's laughter, that familiar tiger's roar. "That's usually the brat's fault," he declared through his guffaws. "I humor her cause it makes her happy." He grinned ferally. "And it draws out the chase."_

_It was a perfectly Zaraki answer. Shuuhei should have expected it._

Their swords met in a fierce clang, shoving Shuuhei backwards. He tried to regain his lost balance, but his feet encountered a small round rock and sent him flying. He landed harshly on his back, something pointed digging into his lower spine as his sword flew from his exhausted grip. The fall broke him out of his reminiscent reverie, especially when he came face to face with the jagged end of Zaraki's zanpakutou.

Struggling to draw in a breath, Shuuhei merely threw himself back against the ground, arms splayed to the sides. He had nothing left in him to spar with, all of his energy gone. He closed his eyes as he heard Zaraki's dark chuckle above him and waited for the energized hum of his body to cease.

"Yer getting' better," the captain rumbled as Shuuhei heard the distinct sound of a sword into its sheath. "Ya lasted fifteen minutes longer."

Shuuhei cracked open one eye, staring up at his formidable opponent. "My body is warring with itself, and all I've managed is another fifteen minutes?" he demanded, his voice coming out slightly raspy.

He still felt no urge to get up, his muscles screaming and burning with an agony that somehow managed to make him feel triumphant. Besides, the ground wasn't too rocky, even if something was digging into his ass in a decidedly uncomfortable location.

The captain laughed at him, though it was all good-natured. "Can't be helped. That blind bastard ruined ya." He paused, grin turning slightly mischievous as he gleefully added. "Ya even let Yumichika beat ya, remember?"

Shuuhei groaned. "I try not to."

Zaraki sniggered, crossing his arms over his chest. "He says he's more than willing to teach ya a few tricks." He guffawed and then abruptly cut off, face taking on a disturbed look. "Ah, dammit. He might have been talkin' about somethin' else. Forget I said that."

He looked so positively disconcerted that Shuuhei, despite his fatigue, just closed his eye once more and laughed. He knew very well that Yumichika unnerved his captain with his frilly and rather womanly ways.

"Keeeen-chaaaaan!"

The call reverberated through the air seconds before Shuuhei felt the wave of reiatsu hurtling their direction. He looked up just in time to see a streak of pink, red, and black immediately glomp onto Zaraki's shoulder. The captain didn't even budge, though the attack must have felt like a small boulder to the back.

"Yachiru," he grunted by way of greeting.

The bubbly girl grinned, kicking her feet excitedly. "Ken-chan won again!" she declared like she had for every spar session. Around her neck fluttered a very familiar scarlet scarf, so Shuuhei wasn't too disappointed. "Now, he can come play!" Yachiru added as if there were to be no argument, further confirming in Shuuhei's mind that it was actually she who called the shots and not Zaraki.

The captain snorted dismissively, but the look he gave her was fond. "Not likely, brat. Go find Ikkaku to chew on or somethin'."

He then unfolded his arms and offered a hand down to Shuuhei. The vice-captain took the aid and allowed Zaraki to haul him to his feet, where he wobbled a bit unsteadily. His legs quivered in their fatigue but somehow managed to maintain his weight. Shuuhei idly wiped beads of sweat and blood from his brow, inwardly remarking that he needed a bath.

Zaraki tilted his head, looking up at the sky to gauge the hour. "Dinner time," he grunted. "Ya headin' back with us, Hisagi?"

Despite the grumbling in his belly, Shuuhei sighed. "I can't," he replied, mournfully as he reached down to grab his zanpakutou and slide it into his sheath. "I've got a stack of paperwork I've been ignoring, and my third-seat's been frantic about something or other."

He didn't really want to decline. Mealtimes at the eleventh division were invariably more amusing than what he spent most of his days doing. It was getting increasingly frustrating, how much work he was expected to do as a stand-in captain. And Soul Society didn't seem to be in any hurry to appoint a new one or give him some aid. Yet another reason he valued Zaraki's sparring sessions. It gave him a place to vent his anger.

"Same time Friday?" Shuuhei posed instead, calculating that after a good soak and two days rest he would be ready to face Zaraki again. Hopefully for more than fifteen minutes longer.

Zaraki grinned as Yachiru bounced on his shoulder. "Maybe I should let Yumichika kick yer ass for once, ne?"

It took all Shuuhei had to keep from flushing in embarrassment. Damned Zaraki had a point.

"I don't think that's necessary," he replied, knowing that the captain was poking fun at him. "Later."

He gave a vague wave of his hand and flash stepped away, leaving Zaraki to find his way back to Seireitei. With Yachiru at his side, the captain was certain to get lost until well-past dinnertime.

It was a small bit of revenge for all those wisecracks.

Shuuhei fought to keep the grin off his face as he headed back to his division, well aware of the sun falling in the sky above him. He did feel as if he were improving, getting stronger in some way. He wasn't sure when he had made the resolution to become skilled enough to beat Tousen, but now, it was his goal. He wanted to be the one to defeat his former captain, to show him true justice. Even if he had to dance with the so-called devil to do it.


	4. The Deep End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shuuhei thinks he might have lost his rationality somewhere along the way to want to do something this dangerous.

Shuuhei was surrounded by silence.

Except for the warm wind and its faint scent of cherry blossoms. And a few birds. Vague shouts in the distance that were probably some minor disagreements. The leaves rustling in the scattered trees.

Alright. It was _mostly_ silent.

Quiet, however, wasn't something that one would usually associate with Zaraki Kenpachi. Loud cackling maybe. The sound of battle possibly. A booming voice yelling at his subordinates even. Not really silence though. Yet, here, they were in the middle of nowhere Rukongai, meditating. Except Kenpachi was the only one actually concentrating.

Shuuhei was too busy having a mental meltdown.

He was fine with being good friends with Kenpachi. That didn't bother him at all. The eleventh division was becoming like a family to him. He was getting used to Yachiru's weight on his shoulder. He and Ikkaku spared often, which was reassuring since he had a bit more of a fighting chance against him than he did against Zaraki.

All in all, it seemed like things were going well for him. His division was prospering, and Amaterasu was speaking to him. Why, any day now he would be stumbling into his bankai. He was certain of it.

It was just, somewhere along the way, the friendship he shared with Kenpachi started to mean a bit more. It began to run just a little deeper. And before he knew what was happening, he had fallen into lust with the captain.

Literally. Head first, veins singing, and insanity all taking over.

It wasn't so much that Kenpachi was a man that bothered Shuuhei. He had never really defined himself by his sexuality anyway. He wasn't entirely inexperienced. There was a time, back when he had first become a vice-captain, that he and Izuru had fooled around a bit. They were both lonely, and at the time, it both had and hadn't mattered. They were friends, and that was all that was important.

No, it wasn't Kenpachi's sex that was the issue.

It was the insane urge to kiss Zaraki Kenpachi at all sorts of odd times even when they were doing something as normal as talking or sharing a bottle of sake. Or even sparring. After all, kissing was the sort of thing that got a person stabbed by a certain captain. Who, as far as Shuuhei knew, had never shown any sort of interest in men at all.

To his horror, Shuuhei had caught himself imagining and pondering. Wondering what it would be like to kiss Kenpachi. If he would be as forceful and consuming as his personality. How he would taste. Like steel and blood and sandalwood, Shuuhei imagined. Like something harsh and strong, nearly unbreakable. Like the pure rush of battle. Like something without constraint.

Somewhere along the way, friendship had turned into much, much more. And Shuuhei was damned if he knew how or when.

It certainly wasn't what he had intended, that day he barreled into the eleventh division and demanded answers. But he also supposed that was the way things worked concerning Zaraki Kenpachi. Completely unpredictable. Sweeping a person away, somehow managing to instill loyalty in the blink of an eye. It wasn't too much of a stretch for Shuuhei to have been easily swept up in Kenpachi's tide.

There, he was, desperately trying to swim along with all the other drowning idiots as Kenpachi led them somewhere. Anywhere really. It didn't honestly matter to them because _Kenpachi_ was leading and that was what truly counted. It was sort of the same effect Kurosaki Ichigo had on the people he met, only Shuuhei didn't want to kiss Kurosaki-kun. He wanted to kiss Kenpachi.

Hard. With tongue even. And maybe some other stuff. Hands roaming and bare skin and teeth. Yes, he could involve teeth. Warm mouths and wet tongues. Fingers splaying across sinewy muscle. The thought simply made him shiver, in spite of the warmth of the day soaking into his skin.

He wasn't meditating at all.

Shuuhei had the feeling he was going just a bit insane. Only a person entirely out of their mind would consider kissing Zaraki Kenpachi. Or maybe someone with a death wish. Only Shuuhei liked living; he rather enjoyed it a lot. But that didn't stop the urges.

There was a lot to like in Kenpachi, after all. He was strong and confident, and he was able to think for himself rather than blindly follow rules. He inspired loyalty and was in turn loyal himself. He was kind enough to take care of an orphaned girl, though Shuuhei wouldn't ever say that aloud. And he was very, very attractive. Especially when he took his hair down from those spikes.

He wanted to lean over, right now, where they were, and kiss Zaraki Kenpachi. Just once. Or twice. More if the man would let him. Shuuhei had to know if it was just a passing madness, or if it really did mean something more like every instinct in his body was telling him it did. The last time he'd been this uncertain, he'd become friends with Zaraki. Shouldn't it stand to reason that everything would turn out fine this time?

Worse than his sudden attraction was the fact that he was certain Ayasegawa had already figured it out. The flirtatious fifth-seat was just too crafty for his own good.

Like today for instance, when Shuuhei had dropped by the eleventh to drag Kenpachi out for their weekly mediation attempts. Sometimes, the captain went willingly, sometimes he whined like a little kid. But every time, he eventually conceded and let Shuuhei drag him away from his "important paperwork." Bull. Shuuhei knew he only did it when he was bored.

It wasn't Kenpachi's reaction that he was recalling, however. It was Yumichika's.

He had arrived at the front entrance, no longer knocking anymore since he had a longstanding invitation. A few lower officers and unseated Shinigami had called out greetings to him, having learned to recognize him on sight. He had caught a glimpse of Yachiru chasing around Sneaky-Beard, whose real name he _still_ hadn't learned.

Yumichika had been dusting of all things, humming under his breath as he swiped some feathered contraption around the vice-captain's office. And since it was Yachiru's office, which boggled Shuuhei's mind completely, it had been covered in finger-paints of questionable substances. There had been a neat stack of paperwork on her desk, not to mention toys. Lots of toys. And her zanpakutou. It had been resting neatly against the wall.

The fifth seat had smiled when he saw Shuuhei, pausing to place one hand on his hip. "Here to see taichou again, Hisagi-fukutaichou?" Yumichika asked in a light tone, but just the way he said it made so many implications.

Shuuhei had to fight down a blush. He must have been unsuccessful because the grin on Yumichika's face only grew wider. His eyes had turned even more predatory.

"Oh, that's precious," he had purred, idly waving the duster in the air. "So what are your plans for today, Shuu-chan?"

In two seconds he had gone from vice-captain to Shuu-chan. He would never understand Yumichika. And dammit, his blush had not been precious at all. It had been embarrassing, and he had fought to swipe it from his face with little success.

"Meditating," Shuuhei had blurted out to his utmost horror, displaying none of his usual calm. "Innocent meditation. So you know. Just like every other Friday."

Why he had felt suddenly defensive had been just chalked up to another one of those strange reactions that Ayasegawa always managed to bring out in him. The man was simply a demon in disguise.

One feathered brow had risen. "Oh?" Yumichika responded with an ever-widening grin. "Well, have fun then, Shuu-chan. The taichou's been waiting for you."

"Ayasegawa!" a voice had roared from the inner office.

Shuuhei had recognized it as a "Zaraki has been annoyed by his fifth-seat all day. Use Caution" bellow.

"Stop hassling Hisagi!"

"Hai, taichou!" Yumichika had practically sang, returning to his dusting, humming under his breath.

Shuuhei had watched him warily, waiting for the fifth-seat to say something else before he inched towards Zaraki's office. Where it was safe. Away from the insinuating Yumichika, who thought he knew everything and probably did since he could convince anyone with his weird, demonic powers. Kami-sama help the world if there were ever more of him.

He had escaped to Kenpachi's office, opening the door without so much of a knock since it wasn't expected anyway. It was a credit to how much he'd been around the man that he hadn't even blinked at the wave of reiatsu that had blasted him in the face. It had likely been a result of Ayasegawa. He knew that the fifth seat enjoyed tormenting his captain just for his own amusement. Kind of like father and daughter if he dared wrap his shattered mind around that.

Stepping inside, Shuuhei had closed the door behind him, blocking out Ayasegawa's presence. He had swept his eyes over the office. Kenpachi had been sitting behind his desk, a dark aura hanging over his head. Irritation had practically radiated from him.

"Ya know, he only bothers ya cause ya react like that," Kenpachi had stated with a snort.

Shuuhei had lifted a brow. "The same could be said for you." He had looked around pointedly. "The walls are practically shaking."

The captain had snorted again. "Came in here with that feathered shit and started chirpin' about brightenin' things up and flowers and some pansy shit. Had ta chase him out twice." His elbow had thunked on the desk as he plopped his chin on his palm.

It had been kind of cute, that indignation, and cute wasn't a word normally associated with Kenpachi. Cute like a baby tiger was cute, despite knowing it would mature and become a ferocious carnivore. Even that hint of danger hadn't keep Shuuhei from wanting to kiss Kenpachi, which had given him another bout of blush to fight down.

Kenpachi, seeming to sense his sudden craziness, had eyed him. "What's the matter with you?"

"Nothing," Shuuhei had responded hastily, banishing all lusty thoughts from his brain. "But we should probably get going."

"Yeah, yeah, I know. Meditating." Kenpachi had grunted, still expressing his dislike for the whole thing. Yet, he had risen to his feet, glanced briefly at his paperwork, and then had reached for his still nameless sword.

His eye had flickered to the door, where Yumichika's humming could still be heard, before Kenpachi jerked a finger behind him. "We'll go out the back."

Shuuhei hadn't been able to fully express his relief. "Fine with me."

Yet, even as they had slipped out the back way, Ayasegawa couldn't help one last jab. "Have a good time!"

Damn insinuating fifth-seats.

And that was how they got here, to this place, meditating. Well, Kenpachi was concentrating. Shuuhei was still slowly losing his mind.

Giving up all pretenses, the lieutenant peeled open his eyes and stared at the object of his current thoughts. Kenpachi's eye was closed, his face slack in contemplation. He didn't look quite so fearsome when he wasn't grinning threateningly, even with the eyepatch. And the wind shook his spikes, making the bells tingle softly.

Shuuhei still wanted to kiss him. He was absolutely insane. The urge to lean over and try it, just once maybe, rose up strongly within him. Completely overriding his common sense. They really weren't that far apart, sitting side by side.

Tousen would have been horrified to learn of his former subordinate's thoughts at this moment. But Tousen wasn't here. He was in Hueco Mundo with the rest of the traitors, living with his justice. The thing that required he betray the people who mattered to him and wage war against Soul Society. Innocent lives would be lost for his justice. No, Tousen's opinion didn't matter very much at all. Not anymore.

The indecision tore at him, and Shuuhei chewed on his bottom lip. He was going to get nowhere if he remained a coward. And if it all went flat… well, Kenpachi would simply stab him. And he'd eventually heal. Then, they would later laugh about it.

It _could_ work.

Seeming to sense his companion's mental issues, Kenpachi's eye suddenly popped open. "What's wrong, Shuuhei?" he asked with an amused grin. "Can't concentrate?"

Shuuhei didn't answer. He was going for it.

Before he could entirely convince himself to stop or his rationality could catch up with him, Shuuhei leaned over, closing the space between them. He pressed his mouth to a stunned Kenpachi's lips and kissed him. The overwhelming scent of sandalwood surrounded him. A drizzle of want spread down his spine.

Zaraki wasn't responding. And somehow, that thought pierced his brain. Shuuhei abruptly pulled back from the brief kiss.

Damn. Fuck.

He'd just kissed Zaraki Kenpachi.

Shuuhei blinked, his mind instantly conjuring up images of a bloody death. Being sliced to ribbons by a sword he was only starting to learn to block. Chewed to bits by a cranky Yachiru. Kenpachi cackling all the while.

He really knew how to screw things up.

A firm flush of heated scarlet flashed over Shuuhei's face as he unconsciously licked his lips, staring at an unblinking Zaraki. He couldn't interpret the look on the man's face, too busy having a mental freak-out.

Shuuhei cleared his throat. "Umm... oh, shit."

Oh good, Shuuhei. There went his points for being eloquent.

He fidgeted, fingers clamped on his knees, not returning to his own space and instead just staring. Why the hell hadn't Kenpachi said anything? He could have sworn twenty years had passed in the last two seconds. Damn, wouldn't the man just blink! And why hadn't the bloodbath started yet?

Sweat trickled on his forehead. He knew it. He was about to receive a very disturbing death, a very painful end. He would be cut to bloody pieces, which would years later be found even in _Hueco Mundo_.

Kenpachi stirred, a hand reaching out.

He fought the urge to run. ' _Take it like a man, Shuuhei_ ,' he told himself. ' _Take it like a man_.'

Kenpachi grabbed his upper arm, fingers wrapping around a bicep, and tugged.

Shuuhei was ready to meet his fate, heart pounding in his chest.

Kenpachi kissed him.

His mind absolutely short-circuited.

There were lips pressed against his, far less hesitant than his own pansy attempt at kissing and far more demanding. Hungry and interested. Shuuhei's mouth fell open, and then, there was tongue, wet and slippery, sliding into his mouth. A shiver of warmth spread through his body as he made a noise.

Please, Kami, don't let that have been a really pathetic moan.

Shuuhei finally responded, waking up from his daze and returning the kiss with equal fervor. He didn't allow himself to think, instead concentrating on the here and now, not the possibly bloody future.

And then, it was over, Shuuhei licking his lips as if trying to savor the taste. He knew the look on his face probably resembled that of a scared rabbit.

"What's that look for?" Kenpachi grunted, his fingers still wrapped around Shuuhei's arm. "Ya look like you're expectin' to be stabbed or somethin'."

Well, that _had_ been his initial belief.

Shuuhei blinked. "I kissed you."

Kenpachi snorted. "Yeah? And I kissed ya back."

"But I kissed you."

Clearly, he had lost his brain somewhere. Possibly back in Kenpachi's office with Ayasegawa and his insinuating grins.

A single dark eye stared at him. "You're not quick on the uptake, are ya? Tousen completely scramble that brain?"

"But I kissed you."

He was really stuck on that point for some reason, still cringing and waiting for the last hammer to fall. Doubt was still creeping into his thought processes… or lack thereof.

"Ya act like you've never done this before."

Shuuhei bristled. "I have!" he countered and then abruptly deflated. "That doesn't bother you?"

One eyebrow arched. "Che. Should it?" Kenpachi shrugged, one finger of his other hand sticking in his ear and idly cleaning it out. "Women're nice and all, but they're delicate. I might break 'em or somethin'. And then kids." He gave a shudder. "I got one brat. That's enough."

"You have a point," Shuuhei mused aloud.

And then, Kenpachi was kissing him again, having given up on trying to talk. It effectively cut off any other befuddled protest Shuuhei might have been able to dredge up. Apparently, there wasn't going to be _any_ bloodshed, which he was rather glad to learn. He would survive, all limbs intact.

He idly wondered if Kenpachi liked scarves.

Hunger stirred in Shuuhei's belly, lusty thoughts ping-ponging inside his brain, knocking against one another. He had the desire to drag Kenpachi back to his house and do... _something_. A lot of something. Hell, he'd figure it out when he got there.

The kiss ended, much to Shuuhei's disappointment. And they were left staring at each other. The vice-captain wondered what was supposed to happen next.

Then, Kenpachi smirked, answering all of his unvoiced questions.

"Well, Yachiru has been asking for a mommy."

Shuuhei supposed it could have been worse.


	5. Falling Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just like a tide. Swept away in the deluge. Shuuhei had no control over himself, every time he was in this man's presence.

It was a familiar scene for the two of them, the sound of swords clanging together and the cloud of dust that invariably rose when two strong wills clashed. Kenpachi laughed as he easily wiped Shuuhei from one end of the broad but empty grassland to the other. Every time, Shuuhei picked himself back up, wrapped his fingers around Amaterasu and charged again.

He was so close to bankai that he could taste it, like steel and blood on the tip of his tongue, the flavor of power. Pushing himself to the edge, facing the fear of an insurmountable reiatsu, coming to terms with his attraction to Zaraki Kenpachi. All of that was putting him closer and closer to that larger power. For the first time in years, Amaterasu responded eagerly to him. She sang with the same rhythm as his own pulse, finally finding the draw towards battle. She wanted to fight as much as he did.

With a growl, Shuuhei darted forward, slipping in under Kenpachi's guard. Certain that this time, he might actually get to land a hit. Amaterasu flashed out, blade catching the sunlight and sending a shimmer of reflection across the two Shinigami.

And then, he was suddenly staring up at the blue of the clear sky, looking for clouds that weren't present as _pain_ flashed across his upper shoulders. His head spun and he registered empty fingers and the sound of Amaterasu skittering far out of reach, sliding against a nearby rock and coming to an abrupt stop.

"Damn," Shuuhei cursed, completely breathless. He lay sprawled on his back, arms akimbo, having lost for the hundredth time or more.

Kenpachi loomed over him with his zanpakutou balanced on one shoulder as he toed Shuuhei in the side with his waraji. "That all ya got?"

"Enough," Shuuhei gasped, half-heartedly flopping a hand at the probing foot and pushing it away. "Dammit, you always get me on my back."

He paused, running his words over in his mind again, and promptly flushed. A flare of red that had nothing to do with the exertion of the spar.

Laughing, Kenpachi crouched, one hand scratching at his chin. "Pervert," he accused, single eye glinting. "What'd your worshipers say if they knew?"

Shuuhei groaned and slapped a hand over his face, covering his eyes. "I don't have any worshipers," he shot back.

There was a sound as Kenpachi's zanpakutou found its sheath, quickly followed by a clatter as it was set on the ground. "Oh?" Kenpachi asked.

Shuuhei recognized that tone. It made his stomach clench in anticipation. There was a creak followed by a shift of cloth and crunch of rock within grass.

"Not those fluttery idiots that follow you around, blushin' and gigglin' like damn twittering birds?"

"Is that jealousy I sense?" Shuuhei countered and cracked open his eyes to peer from beneath his arm. His heart picked up a beat, sensing the predator in the air.

The captain was leering down at him, mischief gleaming in that one eye. "Che. Like I'd be worried 'bout a buncha idiots like them. Leave that for fools like Ikkaku and Renji."

And then, Kenpachi was kissing him, just the way Shuuhei liked it after one of their sparring sessions. Tongue sweeping inside of his mouth, exploratory and firm. Kenpachi kissed like he did everything else, hungrily and designed to reduce his enemies to nothing. Shuuhei groaned within seconds, hand grasping onto Kenpachi's neck to hold him in place.

He felt a hand paw at him, and the lingering arousal from their sparring sprang to full life. His free hand grasped for Kenpachi, dragging him nearer as the kiss deepened. He could smell it, the bitter scent of their sweat and the muted flavor of dirt. There was that mysterious sandalwood scent of Kenpachi's and whatever crap it was he put in his hair for spikes. There was hard muscle beneath his fingers and a tongue invading his mouth. Shuuhei could only moan and hungrily seek more, not caring about the rocks and grass beneath him or their current location. He had gotten used to it, after all.

Just like a tide. Swept away in the deluge. Shuuhei had no control over himself whenever he was in this man's presence. Just like the others, caught up in Kenpachi, couldn't swim to save his life. He was just drowning.

Shuuhei had quickly learned that the easiest way to get Kenpachi aroused was to battle him. By the time he got wiped from one end of the training grounds to the other and staggered to his feet, his lover was on him. Kissing him fiercely and melting him into a manly but very uke-like puddle that left him breathless. Zaraki certainly knew how to overwhelm a guy. Shuuhei was sort of forced to get used to it.

Not that he minded too terribly.

Calloused fingers fumbled around his length, stroking him. He had already learned that it was pointless to wear fundoshi during a sparring session. It only left more to take off. Shuuhei's hips jerked upwards into the warm touch, and his own hand started exploring. He dove into Kenpachi's hakama, finding a lack of fundoshi there as well, his fingers encountering the captain's shaft. The other man grunted and deepened the kiss, his free hand the only thing keeping his weight from crushing the vice-captain.

It was messy, and it was clumsy, warm, calloused hands gripping and stroking. Their clothes were in the way, and the ground was hard beneath him, but Shuuhei hardly noticed. Not as fire burst in peppered staccato through his veins and his heart tried to break through his rib cage. Kenpachi's teeth and tongue were all over his throat, nipping but not leaving any marks. He usually saved those for the shoulders and Shuuhei's upper back.

Shuuhei grunted as his hips jerked into Kenpachi's fingers, body straining for that quick release. He was on fire from their spar, his own hand working his lover with familiar efficiency. Here in the open, with the sun beating down and the chance of Yachiru showing up any moment, there was no time for anything long and drawn. Only the sharp heat of release, of pleasure sparking through their bodies.

Kenpachi's weight was familiar above him, the captain surprisingly light considering his height. The captain's haori made him seem so much larger and imposing. But beneath the billowing fabric, he was only broader than Shuuhei in the shoulders. The rest of him was slim, taut lines and muscles, firm beneath the probing of Shuuhei's fingers.

His head fell back against the grass as Kenpachi's mouth licked at his throat, lapping up traces of sweat that had gathered. Above him, Shuuhei could hear those damned annoying bells tinkling from Kenpachi's movements, but it was only a light noise in the back of his mind. The rest of him was too busy concentrating on the fingers stroking his length. On the feel of the ground beneath him and the warm, sweaty mass pressing into him.

He tightened his grip around Kenpachi, swiping a thumb over the head to match each stroke that the captain dealt to him. Kenpachi growled, a sound that shot straight to Shuuhei's groin. He groaned, free hand rising to grapple with annoying spikes and drag Kenpachi's mouth towards his. Tongues and warm breath clashed hotly, the faint taste of copper from bit and swollen lips coloring the kiss.

It was like their matches, Kenpachi swooping in and overwhelming him. It was Shuuhei fighting back with determination, giving as good as he got. And even though he always lost to Kenpachi's irresistible presence and strength, he never considered himself the loser.

Grappling arms and sharp breaths and the heavy tang of sweat. Shuuhei's face was warm from the force of his sweat, not that he hardly noticed. His hips bucked upwards urgently, losing his rhythm as Kenpachi stroked him towards oblivion.

From curiosity to friendship to lust to _this_. And yet, he wouldn't have it any other way.

Hot and desperate, urgent and wanting. Shuuhei devoured the mouth connected to his, nothing registering but _need_ and _want_ and _more._ He thought he might have heard a faint chuckle somewhere, Kenpachi smirking against his lips, but it was driven away by heat and blinding pleasure. Lights that flashed against the back of his eyelids and every muscle in his body seizing. His pulse pounded behind his ears. For a moment, he didn't bother to breathe, just bathed in the pleasure of his release.

Sticky heat splashed onto Kenpachi's fingers as Shuuhei gasped, collapsing tiredly against the ground beneath him. Kenpachi's hand gradually extracted from his hakama, fingers wiping on the grass nearby with casual movements. Sucking in heavy breaths, Shuuhei forced energy into his sagging limbs and surged upwards, surprising his lover with his motion as he broke apart the hungry kiss.

A salacious grin broke Kenpachi's lips as he looked at the hungry, dark eyes of the vice-captain. Shuuhei's hand fumbled in Kenpachi's hakama, losing his hold on the captain as he pushed Kenpachi onto his back. He struck ground with a grunt but without complaint, though he dragged Shuuhei along with him.

Awkward and fumbling, it was several long seconds before Shuuhei managed the position he had originally been intending. Fingers lacking strength from the mind-blowing orgasm groped at the ties to Kenpachi's hakama, tearing them open. Before Kenpachi could even move, though his mouth was opening to make some comment Shuuhei was sure, he swooped down and licked a wet line from base to tip of the captain's arousal.

Kenpachi swore hotly, one hand clamping down on Shuuhei's head but not pushing. He had learned that the vice-captain wasn't too fond of being directed. His lips instinctively pushed towards the moist heat, Shuuhei smirking as he drew back.

"No time for teasin'," Kenpachi growled, a sound that never ceased to tingle hotly through Shuuhei's veins. "Unless ya want Yachiru to see ya."

"Wouldn't be the first time," Shuuhei muttered, cheeks blazing as he thought of the time Yachiru had burst into the room wondering what was wrong with her Ken-chan.

Mortification was not even strong enough to describe his feelings at that time. And though Kenpachi had laughed it off, telling his daughter to start knocking, Shuuhei had been too embarrassed to continue. It was weeks before he was willing to do anything remotely sexual near Kenpachi's living quarters or the eleventh division.

He ignored Kenpachi's strained chuckle and wrapped his lips around the head of his lover's arousal. Tongue flicking against the weeping slit, he tightened his lips and smirked inwardly at the sharp curse that his actions produced. He could feel the restraint in Kenpachi's muscles where his hand sat balanced on a cloth-covered thigh. His other fingers wrapped around the base, stroking slowly up and down to the bobbing of his head. He could feel the pulsing of Kenpachi's veins against his tongue, the bitter and salty tang flooding Shuuhei's mouth. His lover was already close, rock-hard and desperate. A good fight aroused Kenpachi as much as it did Shuuhei, and the vice-captain knew it wouldn't take long.

The wet sounds of his lips and tongue on Kenpachi joined the soft groans that dropped from the captain's lips. He panted, throwing his head back against the ground as his hips restlessly rolled upwards, rhythm matching Shuuhei's tongue. Sweat trickled down the vice-captain's back, fingers clenching around Kenpachi's thigh. Tension wound through Kenpachi's body, and he sucked in a sharp breath, letting out in a hiss that carried a curse with it.

Shuuhei stroked his tongue along Kenpachi's shaft, applying the perfect amount of pressure with his lips. He felt fingers curl against his scalp, pulling unconsciously. Hips rocked against him with increasing urgency. Knowing that he was close, Shuuhei sucked deeply, adding a gentle scrape of his teeth. A guttural noise echoed in Kenpachi's throat as he suddenly spilled into Shuuhei's mouth, a hot rush of bitter liquid.

He rode out the last of his lover's tremors and waited until Kenpachi collapsed against the ground before casually turning his head and spitting. He had never liked swallowing and wasn't about to start now. No matter how fond he was proving to be of Zaraki Kenpachi. He wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand, waiting for Kenpachi to catch his breath. The captain surprised him by reaching down, tangling fingers in the front of his shihakusho and dragging him upwards for another steamy kiss.

Blood still boiling, Shuuhei felt himself twitch within his hakama. He groaned and suddenly longed for a place much, much more private.

Breaking off the kiss, Kenpachi gave him a look. "The hell's the matter with you?"

Shuuhei knocked his head against Kenpachi's shoulder. "I'm never going to win," he lamented, though that hadn't been his original line of thought. It was the first thing that came to him.

There was a stunned pause before Kenpachi suddenly burst into laughter, loud and echoing around the mostly deserted area.

"Only you," he commented with a full-bodied snicker. "Only you would say something like that, Hisagi."

Shooting the captain a look that was a mixture of annoyance and amusement, Shuuhei flopped to the side, landing on the green grass and staring up at the sky. A familiar pose for him, if he dared think of it.

One hand flopped lazily to his forehead, feeling the sticky sweat and dust that had gathered there. "I need a bath," he announced with a grimace.

An elbow prodded him in the side as Kenpachi grunted, his other hand situating his hakama. "You ain't the only one."

Shuuhei turned his head to the side, catching sight of Kenpachi tying his obi one-handed and ending up with something rather lop-sided that was destined to unravel soon enough. His captain's haori was dusted with dirt. But considering its tattered nature, it couldn't possibly get much worse.

"Bet I can--"

" _ **Ken-chan**_!"

The blur of pink and black and happy, cute things that never ceased to amaze Shuuhei was not entirely unexpected. She barreled their direction, jumping first on Kenpachi's belly and then bouncing over to plop down on Shuuhei's. His air whooshed out of him in a whuff as she curled her legs as if he had become her own personal chair when he wasn't looking.

"Damn brat," Kenpachi grunted, barely reacting to her sudden presence. "Ya always ruin the moment."

She pouted, pressing a finger to her lip and using her other hand to reach down and pat Shuuhei's chest. "But Ken-chan and Shuu-chan always leave me behind. It's not fair. I want to fight, too."

Shuuhei paled, a sudden fear striking him. Fighting Kenpachi was one thing. Yachiru was a whole other story. Even _Kenpachi_ was afraid of her, and that really said something. He could barely survive the captain. There was no way he was taking on the pink ball of energy. He would never survive.

He opened his mouth to protest, hoping he wouldn't sound like a coward, but Kenpachi beat him to it.

"Ya finish yer readin?" Kenpachi demanded.

Yachiru looked shame-faced and fidgeted, wiggling around on Shuuhei's belly and driving the breath out of him again. "No," she said slowly, drawing out the syllables and looking everywhere but at her adopted father. One hand shot into the air, waving frantically. "But I helped Freaky-brow clean!"

Shuuhei had an idea of what Yachiru meant by cleaning, and it was nowhere close to the true definition. He had a feeling that they would be returning to the sight of an irate Yumichika.

Jerking upwards and into a sitting position, Kenpachi tugged at one of his spikes. "That's why ya can't come," he said with a grin, poking her in the shoulder. "Ya don't finish your work. Helping the fruitcake doesn't count."

"Awww." Pouting again, Yachiru turned sparkling pink eyes on Shuuhei.

He froze, like prey caught in a predator's cross-hairs.

"Shuu-chan, Ken-chan's being mean."

Grasping her by the waist as he sat up himself, that way he didn't dislodge her, Shuuhei shared a look with Kenpachi. "Err," he began quite intelligibly as he always did when faced with Yachiru. "I don't think I can help you with that."

She peered up at him, not convinced in the slightest.

Kenpachi guffawed as he rose to his feet, one hand swiping up his zanpakutou and sliding the sheath into his obi. "Come on, brat. Shuuhei and I need a bath 'for dinner."

"Okay!" she chirped and did a massive leap to her father's shoulder, giggling happily and kicking her feet in a motion that was way too cute for Shuuhei's sanity.

Shaking his head, the vice-captain of the ninth division stood and brushed off his clothes, eyes scanning the ground. He spotted Amaterasu a few feet away and quickly reclaimed his zanpakutou, giving her a silent apology for what might have seemed like an abandonment.

He listened to Kenpachi and Yachiru interact and smiled.

This was his life now. Working for his bankai before Yamamoto assigned someone to be captain of the ninth division. Spending every other night in the eleventh, eating with Kenpachi's division and trading sword tips with Ikkaku. Avoiding Yumichika's insinuations and enduring Yachiru's weight on his shoulder. Sloppy, sweaty, and warm nights in Kenpachi's bed. Or sometimes they shared his own.

A war was still on the horizon, the threat of Aizen and his minions looming in Hueco Mundo. Kurosaki-san and his friends were training in the living world; the Shinigami in Soul Society were making their own preparations. Hollows were becoming more frequent, the menace of Arrancar a heavy weight on the back of every Shinigami's mind.

None of that bothered Shuuhei anymore because he finally understood; he finally found what he wanted for himself. He had learned to separate Tousen's teachings from his own feelings, had learned to stand on his own two feet. And he was determined to never go down without fighting again.

He would have Kenpachi to thank for that, but the captain wouldn't accept his gratitude. He would grunt, pour more sake, and say something along the lines of "Ya found it for yourself." And then Yachiru would appear out of nowhere, glomp his head and chirp excitedly in his ear.

In the end, Shuuhei stopped trying to say thank you. And all was well.

And now, the two of them were together, a fact that hadn't taken very long to be announced between their friends. Though it wasn't entirely because Shuuhei had told them but more like an accidental discovery.

The look on Renji's face when he caught them kissing for the first time was one that Shuuhei would never forget. It was a mixture of surprise, horror, fear, and then some more surprise all rolled up into a large blushing package that stammered, swore under his breath, and promptly flitted away in a burst of shunpo. Shuuhei had squirmed; Kenpachi had kept kissing him. All in all, the vice-captain hadn't minded too much. Kenpachi could do amazing things with his tongue.

Renji eventually learned to announce himself before coming into Kenpachi's office or Shuuhei's, for that matter. In fact, all of their friends had learned that little tidbit for their mind's own sake.

Shuuhei wasn't sure how it happened, but the rest of Seireitei had found out rather quickly. He suspected Yumichika had much to do with it. And Ikkaku still hadn't learned the benefits of tact. Regardless, within a month's time, the whole of Soul Society had discovered the relationship between them. Which succeeded in baffling damn near everyone.

In the end, however, no one seemed to care. And those who actually had something to say, didn't rank high enough on Shuuhei and Kenpachi's scale for them to even notice. After all, it was Zaraki Kenpachi they were talking about. The most fearsome demon in Soul Society.

Shuuhei snorted at that.

The most fearsome demon who still played dolls with his daughter, endured Yumichika's attempts to brighten up the division with flowers, and taught Ikkaku that it was better to live and fight again than die in battle. The same man who Shuuhei was falling into something with, and he didn't mind it one bit.

"Shuu-chan! We're going!" Yachiru called out to him, waving wildly from her place on Kenpachi's shoulder.

Shuuhei stirred and blinked as he realized he had been staring into space. Amaterasu slid into his obi as he jogged towards where they were waiting, pink eyes and a single dark one watching him closely.

"Dreaming again, Shuuhei?" Kenpachi grunted as he drew close.

The tattooed man shook his head. "Something like that," he replied. "Let's go."

"Okay!" Yachiru chirped, bouncing excitedly. "To the baths. And then, dinner! Yumi-pon's cooking!"

Both men shared a concerned groan at that. Yumichika's abilities in the kitchen were nothing to brag about. And he had, on more than one occasion, nearly poisoned the entire eleventh division. Despite his fluttery personality and feminine ways, Yumichika was in no way the perfect housewife. His cooking was utter proof.

Despite his reaction, however, Shuuhei was smiling on the inside.


End file.
